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  • Derby Street Farmer’s Market, 2:45pm, Tuesday

    Between songs he took a sip of water from the glass bottle at his side. I moved closer and asked awkwardly, “How long have you been playing?”

    “Not long enough,” he chuckled. “I started when I was seven. Quit when I was eight…I was dyslexic and they told me I was too stupid to be in school. I was a visual artist for a long time, you know, drawing. Somewhere around ’97 I picked up music again.”

    Mr. Reeves played another song. People passed and threw dollar bills into his case. Mothers rocked with their babies. An old woman even danced. And a young man bowed in respect. When he finished, they each said thank you, then moved on.

    “It makes me nervous,” he started again after a few sips of water, “that I can’t even pick up a pen to draw. But this music thing has got a hold of me. I can’t stop. I guess the blues got me.”
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